


The Murder of the Murderer

by Magnetic_Potato22



Series: Dark Tales [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15454257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetic_Potato22/pseuds/Magnetic_Potato22





	The Murder of the Murderer

It was my heart beating.

I could literally hear the organ pumping blood, giving life to my body. But not for much longer.

I knew he was just around. And it's only just a matter of time before he finds me.

The woods was as dark and desolate as they could be at night. I placed my foot in front of the other as fast as I could. With all the sound that my running made I knew he could find me. Anytime.

A figure jumped over me and grabbed me as we harshly hit the ground.

Pain erupted from my back. I felt a rough, jagged rock pierce my lower back and the sharp, flashing sensation spread across my body. I bit my lip. Tears flowed uncontrollably from the pain

"You don't think I won't find you, huh?!" He snickered, saliva sputtering out of his mouth. "Don't worry. No, do not at all! You are not gonna live through this night."

He grabbed a fistful of soil and grass and god-knows-what and shoved it all to my mouth.

The bitter and damp taste of soil made its way throughout my mouth and I sputtered and gagged violently.

"Ho ho, no no no. You are not going to spit that out!" He pulled out something long and shiny in the moonlight. A knife glittering in the dim light. My only light bringing me eternal darkness.

I mustered all my strength. The knife didn't have to mean the irony that it was putting me through. It could still mean hope.

With all my might, I flipped him so he was the one beneath me. I grunted as I wrestled the knife out of his grasp. He tried to punch me but I got out of the direction of his fist.

Because of his miss, his rigid grip on the knife loosened and I snatched the knife away and without thinking plunged it deep into his chest, right through where his heart should be.

And my hand kept rising and falling and stabbing. The thud of the handle of the knife as it reached his chest almost echoed throughout the forest.

I spat all the soil in my mouth in his face and found it grinning hardly. I hated his smile. I hated his face. I hated his existence. He must suffer. He must feel pain.

I adjusted the knife in my palm. I ran the sharp edge from his forehead down through his mouth. Red hot blood spilled forth from the wound and for the first time I heard him scream.

It reverberated across the silent trees and it was followed by a short chorus of owls making their sounds. But I was not contented. I sliced again. And again. And again. And again. I sliced until the screams stopped. Until my hands were slick with the blood. Until I felt the half of his right eye roll into the ground.

I stood and wiped the blood on my shirt. He wouldn't be able to do anything else. He was dead. His heart stopped beating.

Beating. Thuds. It rose from an abyss I couldn't see. Ticking and tocking its way into my mind.

I covered my ears. The beat won't go away. It was persisting to penetrate my soul. Maybe it was his heart? But no. It was impossible.

God, no! Please! Stop! I looked upon the disheveled corpse, the pool of blood around him, the sliced eye, and was that a lip?

My eyes wandered to my hands. Bloody. Then to the knife beside me. Glistening at me as if mocking me. The beating intensified.

I gazed upon my eye in the reflection in the knife. I only then realized the truth.

It was my heart beating.


End file.
